


The CEO: Part 2

by orphan_account



Series: Batman/Superman Office!AU [10]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Fluff, M/M, get them a room, gross married couple, they find one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:26:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Office!AU that explores the lives of the employees of Kent-Wayne Industries.</p><p>Name: Clark Kent<br/>Age: 42<br/>Occupation: CEO of Kent-Wayne Industries<br/>Likes: romance, his family<br/>Dislikes: the media, slackers<br/>Number of Days Without a Work-Related Injury: 24<br/>Last Work-Related Injury: a dictionary fell on his head when he was trying to grab it from the shelf</p>
            </blockquote>





	The CEO: Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: [My Tumblr](http://burningice2.tumblr.com/)

**I. The Engagement Ring**

“Damn it,” Clark grumbled.

It wasn’t anywhere in his desk or on it. Clark had cleaned out the drawers and cleared his desk of junk, leaving the floor of his office littered with papers, files, and other junk that didn’t belong on the floor. Bruce was going to absolutely kill him. Slowly. 

“Clark.”

Clark looked up from frantically digging through the mess on the floor. “Damian,” he greeted, trying to look casual. “You should really knock,” he said, knowing that Damian would never listen. “What can I do for you, buddy?”

“I wished to borrow your stapler, because Drake has taken mine again, but I see that you may never find yours.” He surveyed the office with barely disguised disgust.

“Yes…this…”

“You have lost something.”

“Uh…”

“Something important by the looks of it.” Damian stepped further into his office, taking care to go around an mountain of papers; he eyed Clark up and down. “You have lost your engagement ring.”

“Misplaced,” Clark quickly corrected, shoving his left hand into the pocket of his pants. “And this is something you definitely don’t need to tell your father. Are we clear?”

“If I can borrow Father’s Lamborghini for the night, we will be clear as crystal.”

Clark frowned. “You have your own car. Why do you need your father's?”

“-tt- That is none of your concern, Clark.”

“It’s Bruce’s car, so you should ask him.”

“Fine,” Damian huffed. “I’m sure Father will be pleased to know that you have lost the symbol of your _eternal love._ ” The kid knew how to hit where it hurt most, and his cruelty got worse as he got older.

“Don’t worry,” a voice placated from the door. “I already know.” Clark swallowed the lump in his throat and thought of a dozen different ways he could show Bruce how sorry he was. But from out of his pocket, Bruce procured the engagement ring that had been the cause of Clark’s anxiety. “You left it in the garage when you were making those cabinets.” Clark shamefully held out his hand so that Bruce could slip the ring back on his finger.

“I guess I need to be more careful,” he admitted, accepting the kiss Bruce pressed to his temple.

“Gross,” Damian spat as he made his exit.

“That’s one way to get him to leave,” Bruce acknowledged. “We should do that more often.”

“Don’t be mean,” Clark chuckled. “I see where he gets it from.”

Bruce laughed. “Trust me. That’s all his mother.”

 

 

 

**II. The Business Trip**

“There should be some chicken, potatoes, and a salad in the back of the fridge.”

“ _I see it_ ,” Bruce responded. _“It’s good to know that when Alfred falls ill, you’re always here to cook. Even when you’re away on business.”_

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Clark said as he unpacked his suitcases on the hotel bed. “I did my best, and I wish I could have cooked for you tonight instead of leave you with leftovers.”

The trip had been last minute, and he and Bruce fought to not go. They were fighting a losing battle, but they had gotten news of Damian being hospitalized, leaving Clark to fly to Los Angeles alone and Bruce to help Colin care for Damian. Thankfully, Damian was merely dehydrated and was sent home after a few hours and some liquids. Despite Damian being an adult, Clark was calling Bruce by the hour before and after being on the plane.

“How is Damian?” Clark heard Bruce laugh on the other end of the line.

“ _That was the first thing you said when I picked up the phone, and my answer was that I saw him and Colin and we both fought to keep him relaxed. Colin kept refilling his water glass every time it was emptied._ ”

Clark sighed; he was tired, the plane ride was not the longest one he had to endure, but it left him exhausted, and by the time he had landed it was twelve-o-clock western time, which meant he had to be up in six hours. He would much rather be home, returning from Damian and Colin’s apartment with Bruce to make dinner with his husband. Not unpacking his luggage at one-thirty in the morning.

“I’m glad that he’s doing better. Please, tell me that my son had the decency to visit his brother in the hospital.”

There was another laugh from Bruce. “ _He brought flowers to Damian’s displeasure.”_

“That’s our boy,” Clark said with a fond smile.

“ _Ours_ ,” Bruce agreed.

Clark looked at the folded clothes laid out on the foreign bedspread and wished more than anything that he and Bruce weren’t separated by a phone and hundreds of miles. Being a CEO with his husband spoiled the both of them, and it wasn’t often that they found themselves apart, but when they did Clark tended to have a difficult time coping. Bruce may not show it often, but Clark knew he found it difficult, too. It was also harder when their kids were younger, but they both had their own partners and were well established in their adulthood.

“I miss you.”

“ _Me too._ ”

Bruce could have said that the oven had just exploded and Clark still would have been able to feel the yearning in his husband’s voice.

“I just wanted to let you know that I arrived safely at the hotel before calling it a night.”

“ _Because everyone preys on the six–three, two-hundred and thirty-five pound male._ ”

This time it was Clark’s turn to laugh. “I wanted to put you at ease. I know that you can’t stand when I’m away,” he teased.

“ _It’s difficult._ ” Clark smiled sadly. “ _It always has been and always will be._ ” He remembered a time during their relationship when it was difficult for Bruce to discuss his feelings; he was glad they were long past that. “ _Get some sleep, Clark.”_

“I love you.”

“ _I love you, too._ ”

 

 

 

**III. The Movie Night**

“I’m telling you, Clark, I think the turnout would’ve been bigger if we went with my Porno Classics theme.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dick apologized profusely for his boyfriend as he shoved Jason down into his seat. “I think the Disney theme was a great call, Clark.”

Most of the office opted for skipping the company’s screening of _Hercules_  for a Friday night spent at any of the local bars. Earlier he had caught Damian trying to sneak out and had made Colin drag his poor son back into the conference room. Everyone had the option of attending, except Bruce, Conner, and Damian.

The HR mediations didn’t seem to be improving employee behavior, so Clark had the idea of a movie night to encourage inter-department cooperation, but it wouldn’t work if only ten people showed up for the movie. Not to mention that half of his employees were shitting on his movie choice.

“I’m just saying, why not go with a classic like _Cinderella_? _Snow White_ isn’t bad either.”

“Thank you, Bart. I will take that into consideration for next time.” Clark was sure his sour mood was part of the reason why people wanted to leave, but he took time out of his Friday night to set this movie up for his ungrateful employees.

“ _Hercules_ is popular enough that everyone here should have seen it at least once,” Steph came to his defense. “Besides, this has got to be in my top three.”

Jason snorted. “That’s sad. I expected better taste from my sales partner.”

“Okay, everyone that’s enough,” Bruce hushed them. “The last thing we need is for somebody to body-slam someone else into the table. Besides,” he said with a smirk, “the movie was my choice, so if anybody has any complaints they are to be taken to me.”

A sudden quiet swept over the room.

Bruce nodded. “Just as I thought.”

When everyone settled quietly into their seats, Clark leaned toward Bruce and whispered, “Thank you,” into his ear. People would rather fight him on his movie choice, but Bruce pretending that the movie had been his choice made everyone quiet down so that the movie could begin.

“I happen to like this movie.”

“So did our children at one point,” Clark reminisced. “It was a creative way to introduce them on my part.”

“Mhm. You know,” Bruce began slyly, “I have a movie waiting for us at home.”

Clark immediately perked up. “Really?” Bruce just continued to look at him with a gaze that promised trouble. “But…” Clark looked around the room, but everyone’s attention had been directed toward the projector where the movie was playing. “I set this whole night up.”

Bruce chuckled, coming low from his stomach. “I’m sure they won’t notice if we slip out early.” He rose from his seat and shot a smirk behind his shoulder as he exited the room with is car keys in hand.

That’s all it took for Clark to follow.

 

 

 

**IV. The Flowers**

The roses were red, nicely arranged in an expensive looking glass vase. Clark was sure they were not on his desk last night when he had left his office, so they must have been put there early this morning. Clark really hoped they were from Bruce, because flowers from anyone else would be unexplainable to Bruce.

“Do you like them?” Strong, familiar arms encircles his waist from behind.

Clark leaned back into the firm chest and relaxed. “Of course I do. I just don’t know what they’re for.”

“I can’t just give my wonderful husband flowers?” Bruce joked, kissing him on the cheek. “Actually, I really appreciated your help with the charity event that I ran with Oliver Queen. You and Conner were dealing with Lex Corp, and you still helped out by bringing your mother’s cookies to the children’s hospital.”

Clark smiled. “Anything for you.”

“Father!”

Bruce released his hold on Clark when Damian stormed into his office with his a controlled look on his face and his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. The workday had barely started and someone had already managed to get on Damian’s bad side. Clark was extra thankful for the flowers on his desk; at least his day started off well enough.

“Yes, Damian?” Bruce sighed, clearly not in the mood.

“Brown has dressed Titus as a cheerleader, and she has him locked in a conference room with Gross Daryl. She wants to see what someone with a dog allergy looks like when they have an allergic reaction.”

“Tell her that I said Titus is to stay on only this floor,” Bruce said with finality. Damian huffed and left. “And the day begins.”

“Yep,” Clark agreed when his phone began to ring.

 

 

 

 

**V. The Problem Child**

Everybody thought their child was perfect, and Clark was no exception. Conner was the spitting image of him when he was twenty-five, and after so many years of not seeing or speaking to Lois, Clark only saw himself when he looked at his son. Maybe if he opened a yearbook and placed a picture of Conner next to the woman he briefly dated, the comparison might remind him that maybe they did share a nose. But years apart left Lois’s image in the dark recesses of his memory, somewhere forgotten. Conner was _his_ son.

Conner excelled socially, was involved in sports and always had plenty of friends. He wasn’t one of the smartest kids, but he always did his best in school, and that’s all Clark could ask for. It had barely been a handful of times that Clark got called in to the principal’s office, and any bad feedback he’d receive at the parent-teacher conferences made him think, “That doesn’t sound like Conner,” but would remember that he barely got to interact with his son the first few years of his life, and he only got to see him before and after work and on weekends. It was a difficult thought to have, but there were parts of his son he didn’t know.

Growing up, Damian had been…difficult. His mother was around more when he was a toddler, and her parenting style differed greatly from Bruce’s. Talia showered her son with affection, but her attention ended up spoiling him. Bruce had no idea how to be a parent, and much of what he learned was from Clark. However, Bruce’s inexperience left his son often feeling unwanted, and their relationship was somewhat strained for awhile. But despite Damian’s tantrums and cutting words, Clark would always argue that Conner was the problem child.

Unlike Damian who had no problem with letting others know that he had a patronizing personality, Conner preferred to hide his bad behavior. His antics could go undetected for weeks without Clark realizing that when Conner said he had cleaned his room, he had meant that he had shoved his mess into the back of his closet. When Conner was barely in kindergarten when he took packs of Skittles from the grocery store and managed to hide it from Clark until he started puking his little guts out all over his little brother.

And now it was happening again. As soon as Clark heard that someone had been putting graffiti all over the bathroom stalls, he had a pretty good idea of who was behind it.

“It wasn’t my idea.” Conner said this with some confidence, but was fidgeting in his seat. He was lucky that it wasn’t Bruce discussing this with him. Hell, Clark didn’t even bother worrying Bruce with this.

“Conner,” he warned.

“Okay, I may have planted the idea in Bart’s head, but I took no part in it.”

“I should certainly hope not,” Clark snapped. “It would be ungrateful of my son to deface the company that Bruce worked so hard to keep running after his parents died, let us become a part of, used to support us when we were alone in a big city.”

His words had put his son to shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Who else?” Clark asked.

“Bart, Roy, and Wally.”

“Direct them to my office,” Clark demanded. “They can play maintenance for the day and clean up their mess. We can’t make them work without pay, but I’m sure we can guilt them into doing some volunteering this weekend without their refusal. Conner…” His son looked up from his lap. “You’re acting like a child. Bruce can’t have children run his company.”

“It’s not as if it’ll be mine tomorrow.”

“No,” Clark agreed, “but it will be yours someday, and we need you as prepared as possible. Bruce and I have had this discussion with you and Damian before. We aren’t just going to hand you the company because you’re both our sons. The company will go to you guys if you prove to be mature, reliable, competent, and dedicated.”

Conner frowned. “I know,” he said stiffly.

“Then what seems to be the problem?”

The mood of the room shifted; Conner was tense and his expression had gone from embarrassed to grim. “Dad,” Conner croaked. His hands clenched the armrests of his chair. “You never asked me if this was what I wanted.”

Clark sat still, mulling over what Conner was saying. “This being?” He needed clarification.

In a louder, clearer voice, Conner announced, “You never asked me if I wanted the company.”

It was true. Damian had shown interest in continuing his father’s work, so Clark assumed that Conner felt the same. Questions ran through his mind: did Conner ever want to be a part of this company? Did he want to still be a part of this company, but not as a CEO? Did he push his son onto a path he never wanted to take? Would Conner resent him? Was he a bad father?

“Dad — ”

“Clark!” Wally burst into the office without knocking, a habit he and Clark were still working on. “We have a security situation in the lobby!”

“Thank you, Wally. I’ll be out in a second.” When Wally closed the door, Clark said to Conner, “We’re going to discuss this later. I promise.” Conner nodded, still sullen. “I’m sorry, son.”

“S’fine,” Conner mumbled.

Clark knew that he and Conner would need to talk as soon as possible.

 

 

 

 

**VI. The Third Copy Machine Incident**

Clark moaned in Bruce’s mouth, let their tongues glide together as he fiddled with his husband’s belt. Once the constricting piece of clothing was gone Clark was able to unzip Bruce’s pants and gain access to his prize.

It was not only unprofessional, it was childish. They had locked themselves in the tiny room where they kept the copy machine during the lunch break. The past week had been full of meetings and late nights, leaving them no time to themselves, all culminating during this Thursday afternoon on top of the copy machine which they had creaking and groaning.

Clark pulled Bruce’s length out of his pants and began stroking at a steady pace with his mouth attached to his husband’s neck; his skin was hot to the touch, and they had barely been in the humid room for five minutes. Speaking of, they only had about fifteen more before people started trickling back to their own cubicles, so Clark pulled his own pants down to his knees and started stroking his own cock to life. Bruce watched with dark eyes as he tried to pull his own pants down, but his movements were paused when Clark put his unoccupied hand on Bruce’s knee.

“No. Don’t.”

Confused, Bruce asked, “Why not?”

“Well,” Clark panted with adrenaline running through his body, “the last two times we did this, the whole company saw your bare ass.” Bruce’s frown was eerily close to a pout. “I feel bad that we keep doing this to Barbara. She already has enough on her plate with Jason, and on top of all that...I’m thinking maybe I could just…”

“Give me oral pleasure,” Bruce finished for him.

Clark nodded. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” He appraised Bruce’s physique; his shirt was partially unbuttoned, enough so that Clark could see his toned chest and peak of an aroused nipple. His dick was at attention, ready to be swallowed. “I really…” Even after nearly fifteen years of marriage, Bruce was still as enticing to Clark as he was the first day they met.

“Just do it,” Bruce all but growled with impatience.

And Clark was about to do as he was commanded until there was a knock on the door.

“Hey! Who locked this?” Bart exclaimed. “This was supposed to be on Dick’s desk an hour ago!”

Bruce sighed and pressed his forehead to Clark’s. “Next time, I guess.”

Clark responded with a peck to his nose. “Tonight. I promise.”

“You’ve got yourself a date.”


End file.
